Infidelity
by Sun-to-Dry-the-Rain
Summary: He hated himself. He hated himself for having to break one of their hearts, for comparing two different shades of perfection. Most of all, he hated himself for being in love with both of them in the first place.
1. I

Remember that great love involves great risk.  
-Anonymous

* * *

A thick slush gathered in the soles of his boots as he hurried along the sidewalk. The hood of his jacket was pulled up to his face, shielding him from the snow fluttering silently to the pavement. He wasn't late - he was never late to anything. He just wanted to get out of the storm.

"Should've taken the bus," he grumbled under his breath. He wiped the snowflakes off of his forehead and glanced at his watch - 9:46 p.m. In his other hand he cradled a pair of small white boxes, carrying some Chinese food. He squeezed the boxes to his chest in a fatal attempt to keep them warm as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. The number was dialed before he had time to think; she answered before the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Wendy, it's Stan." Stan leaned against the wall of a gas station by the road. "I picked up dinner for us. Hope you don't mind Chinese again."

"No, that's fine. Thanks. You want me to pick you up? It's snowing pretty hard."

"I should be home in like ten minutes. Don't bother."

"Okay." A pause. "Love you."

Stan smiled even though he knew Wendy couldn't see him. "I love you too. Bye." And like that, the conversation was over, and Stan continued on his way. Not that there would be anything else to talk about anyways; after over a decade of being together, they ran out of things to say. Just a quick smile and hug each morning. Just a brief kiss goodnight. Almost nothing in-between. Stan ignored how vacant their communication was, doing his best to not let it eat away at his thoughts.

Stan was relieved when his house came into view. He upped his pace slightly and nearly slipped on some ice. Even though Stan spent his whole life in South Park, he'd never liked the cold weather. He was planning to move somewhere that never snowed in his teenage years, but this was the only way he could stay with Wendy. She loved South Park and wouldn't even consider leaving.

He was stuck there.

At last, he reached the porch of his small house. "I'm back," Stan said loudly when he opened the front door.

Wendy was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, a book in her hands. She finished whatever sentence she was reading before she looked at him and smiled. It quickly morphed into a frown. "You should've let me pick you up, Stan. You look halfway-frozen. I'll reheat these," She stood up and took the paper boxes from Stan's hands. "Go change your clothes and come down whenever."

"Okay, mom." Stan smirked and took his wet jacket off, hanging it on the coat rack. Wendy would have a fit if he didn't. He climbed the stairs and came back a couple minutes later in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. Wendy was standing in front of the microwave, her back facing him, tapping her nails on the counter. Her jet-black straight hair fell about a half-foot beyond her shoulders, the bottom few inches tied in a loose braid. She rocked on the balls of her feet, which made her petite frame sway back and forth like a blade of grass in a breeze. She didn't turn around until she took the boxes from the microwave and dumped the contents on a plate.

"Thanks again for picking this up. I didn't feel like cooking tonight." Wendy set the plate on the kitchen table and took a seat.

"No problem." Stan reached across the table and spooned some fried rice on his plate. He picked some up with his plastic fork and shoved it into his mouth, tasting nothing. They ate teetering on silence, the only words spoken about Stan's day at work and how bored Wendy was hanging around the house all day.

Stan left the table first when he was finished. He scraped the remainder of what was on his plate in the trash and set the silverware in the sink. He half-listened to what Wendy was saying as he cleaned up the table, nodding when he knew he was supposed to.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Guess who stopped by today."

Stan considered for a moment and shrugged.

"Remember Kenny? He came here a couple hours ago looking for you. He said that he was in town, so he wanted to visit."

Stan stopped spooning leftovers into the plastic containers and looked up. He hadn't seen Kenny in over a year; he just seemed to disappear after high school, without a trace. "Really?"

"Yeah, he left his number when I told him you weren't here. You should call him tomorrow."

"Oh. Okay." Stan put the Tupperware in the refrigerator and headed for the staircase. "I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"G'night."

"You too." Stan replied. He trudged up the stairs, counting all thirteen of them on the way up. He took a left and went into the bedroom without turning the lights on. Everything he did was a daily ritual, repeating emptily day after day. Stan's life was like a broken record.

He hated it.

Stan laid on his back, with his fingers intertwined behind his head. He stared at he shadows on the ceiling and tried to fall asleep. No luck - his thoughts were eating him alive.

He loved Wendy, probably more than he loved himself, but everything about their relationship had grown so stale. A few months ago he was thinking of proposing to her. Now the thought made him uncomfortable. Married life wouldn't make a difference from life as it was, so why bother? Why go through all the trouble just so he could wear a ring and waste a ton of money? The whole fiasco didn't seem worth the backlash.

Stan held his wrist close to his face to look at the time again. He'd only been in his bedroom for about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds, to be exact.

"Stan, are you still awake?"

He looked up from the face of his watch and saw Wendy standing in the doorway, squinting into the darkness, as if it would allow her to see better. She leaned against the doorframe and cleared her throat.

"Yeah. Can't fall asleep." Stan reached to his left and flicked the switch on the lamp.

"That bites."

Stan chuckled and made a face. "'Bites?' When did you start saying that?"

"Shut up." Wendy crossed her arms but still couldn't stop herself from smiling. "I'm only twenty-three. I can still stay 'bites', can't I?" She opened the drawer of her dresser and took her shirt off, letting it fall behind her in a pool of mauve fabric. She wriggled out of her jeans and hastily tied a short yellow robe on over her body.

Stan realized that he hadn't seen Wendy naked in over two months; they hadn't made love in over _five._ Wendy always seemed embarrassed whenever Stan looked at her. He thought that everything about her thin-yet-curvy body was faultless, down to the freckles on her lower-back and the scar on her shoulder. She was beautiful.

Her movements were smooth and languid as Wendy maneuvered into the full-sized bed and pulled the blanket up to her chest. Stan reached to his left again and turned off the lamp. His arms wrapped around her stomach and pulled her to his chest, bringing her close enough so he could rest his chin in the crook between her head and shoulder. His heart beat quickly; he was anxious, as he hadn't been this close to her in a long time. Wendy put her hands on top of Stan's and rubbed them gently, in slow circles.

"I love you." Stan turned his head and kissed her on the cheek. Wendy squeezed Stan's hands and craned her neck around to kiss Stan on his mouth. His lips became more needy - he held her closer to him under the blanket, listening to the sound of her rapidly shortening breathing. Stan's fingers inched for the tied belt on her robe, finding the uncomplicated knot and pulling it apart. Wendy froze for a second. Her breathing stilled. Stan ran his cold fingers along her ribcage, trying his best to not let her know that he was even more nervous than she was.

--

Stan woke up with Wendy in a sleepy embrace. He wondered for a moment if he had been dreaming, but that question was answered when he noticed that Wendy was without a bra. He didn't feel like moving and waking her up, so he didn't know what time it was. He guessed that it was early morning, judging by the way that dim light shone through the windows. He still had plenty of time until he needed to go to work, which he was thankful for.

Wendy took a deep breath and sighed. Stan looked at her contently and admired her perfect features. Her worry-lines vanished when she slept, making her look serene and happy. Stan resisted the urge to stroke her cheek in fear of waking her up. He instead leaned a few inches forward, pressing his cool lips lightly to her forehead. She didn't stir.

Stan thought the previous day that they might not be right for one another; now, as he inhaled the sweet scent of her skin, he knew that they made each other whole.

* * *

-_JetBlackFedoraHat_

**Author's Note: More to come. I'm looking forward to it. Reviews are loved and cherished.**


	2. II

Stan grunted and dropped the box he was holding, letting it fall in front of his feet with a noise loud enough to make some of the customers in the store turn around in curiosity. Stan paid no attention to them, as he was too busy lifting the package up again and trying to get it situated into a shelf. Sweat dripped down his back in warm wet stripes.

Once Stan successfully got the heavy box in one of the topmost shelves, he fiddled with his nametag. The pin always stabbed into his chest - sometimes it would make him bleed, leaving several dark brown splotches on his red button-up shirt he was required to wear to work. Stan irately removed the pricking nametag and shoved it into his pocket.

Someone poked him on his shoulder. "Excuse me, young man. Do you work here?"

_What the hell do you think I'm wearing the employee uniform for? Fun?_

"Yes, ma'am. Do you need help with something?"

She was old - _very_ old. The kind of old that would make people say holy-crap-shouldn't-she-be-dead-by-now-how-old-is-she-anyways-probably-about-two hundred-or-something-old. "Do you know where the DealMart store is? I've been looking everywhere and I just can't seem to find it." She licked her lips the awkward way only someone over seventy could.

It took every fiber of Stan's being not to lose his composure. "You're in it. This is DealMart."

These were the type of people that Stan had to put up with on a daily basis - he had no idea why the customers he handled were always dumb or crazy. Or senile.

The woman licked her lips again and narrowed her eyes at Stan, not in a vicious way but in confusion. "DealMart - where is DealMart?" Her voice raised in volume a bit, as if she were talking to a child that wasn't listening to her.

Stan pinched the skin between his eyes and groaned. Just another day. Like many other things in South Park, he hated his job.

"You see that guy over there? Go ask him." Stan pointed at the first person he saw in a red button-up shirt and black slacks. Without waiting for a response, he turned around and walked in the other direction.

--

Stan's favorite time of day was 6:00 - when his shift was over and he went home. He usually walked to and from the store, when he had nothing to do besides return to his house. Today was no exception.

Stan shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks to warm them. His fingertips brushed against a scrap of paper. Stan fished it out and glanced at it, suddenly remembering that Wendy had given it to him before he left for work, saying something like 'don't forget'. Kenny's phone number was written in a neat scrawl, obviously Wendy's handwriting. He dug into his pocket again, this time for his phone, and quickly pressed the keys. Once he pressed the 'call' button he dropped the paper on the sidewalk.

Four rings later, in a familiar muffled voice: "Hello?"

Stan realized that he hadn't thought about what he was going to say at all; he just called because Wendy told him to. Stan's mind frantically tried to come up with something. "Kenny?"

"Is this Stan?"

"Yeah."

"Bitchin'. I haven't seen you in forever. How's it going?"

He didn't know what to say to that. "Uh...fine. I guess. Wendy said that you came over last night or something." Stan completely sucked at smalltalk.

"Yeah, I did. I was thinking that you should come to my place - my parent's place, I mean - later. Wendy can come, too. If she wants."

"She'll be utterly thrilled." Sarcasm. Wendy would rather stay home than go out. "So I guess we'll come by tonight around 8:30, if that's okay?"

"All right. Bye."

"Bye."

Stan flipped his phone shut and dropped it in his pocket. He considered calling Wendy, but he was so close to his house that he decided not to bother and waste his minutes.

Once Stan was twenty feet or so from his house, he stopped walking and studied where he lived. It was a small house - two stories, one bathroom, one bedroom, a kitchen, and the rest of the space filled with boxes from their recent move. Stan always thought that his home would be less cramped. It was like a storage shed.

"What're you doing?"

Stan shifted his focus from the hideous green roof to Wendy's face. She was standing in the doorway, in a pair of pajama pants and a sweater.

"Come inside, it's fucking cold." Stan did as he was told and followed Wendy into the house. She sat on the steps, blowing at the steam from her hot chocolate but not taking a sip.

"How was work today?"

"Fine." Stan thought that he might've had an inability to make conversation last over ten seconds.

Wendy nodded, still blowing at her mug. "Did you call Ken?"

"Yep. We're going to his parents' place at half-past eight, tonight."

"I think it would've been nice if you told me earlier." Wendy stood up slowly so that her hot chocolate wouldn't spill. "Oh, and don't wear that shirt there. It's got some blood stains on the front. Ew."

Stan's shirt was already halfway unbuttoned before she said that. He mulled over saying something but decided not to. Being on Wendy's bad side so early in the day was tiring.

Nothing of particular interest happened for the next few hours, unless Wendy making Stan change his outfit four times before they left counts. Stan stood at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed huffily. "Okay, now I just have on a plain black shirt and jeans. Can we go now?"

Wendy laughed at Stan's indignity and nodded. Once he saw the light smirk on her face, Stan's bitter expression melted, and he suddenly couldn't remember why he was even irritated in the first place.

"Do you wanna drive or should I?"

Wendy thought about that for a moment and jabbed her thumb to her chest. Stan took the keys hanging from a ring on his belt loop and threw them to her from where he stood at the top of the staircase. Wendy caught them with ease and pushed open the door, all in one seamless motion. She left the door swinging on its hinges, blowing cold air into the house and giving Stan gooseflesh. He felt a strange sensation when she left, but he couldn't quite place what it was. And Wendy would probably start honking the horn soon, so he didn't have time to give it a second thought.

* * *

-_JetBlackFedoraHat_

**Author's Note: I feel so effin' stupid - some reviewers told me something about repeating a part - I opened it and was like 'SHIT.' So, yeah, my bad. And I guess that's where the extra words came from. (This is what happens when you don't proofread, people!)**


	3. III

"You know the way there, right?"

"Yep." Wendy fiddled absentmindedly with the radio. "It's over the tracks or something. Not too far away."

"Mm-hmm."

Wendy stretched her fingers against the steering wheel and didn't say anything else. Neither of them said a word until they felt the car rattle on its way over the train-tracks.

"Which house is Kenny's?" Wendy asked, keeping her focus on the road. Stan looked out the window and pointed instinctually. Kenny's house hadn't changed much in the last decade; if anything, it had gotten dingier with age. Wendy parked the car in the driveway and put the keys in her pocket. Stan unbuckled his seatbelt and got out.

Before they even reached the porch, the door opened and creaked on its hinges. Kenny stood inside the house with one hand on the doorknob and the other holding an unopened beer.

"Ken!" Stan closed the remaining ten feet or so between them and did the one-handed 'manly hug'. Kenny laughed, pushing Stan away with a light hand.

"Hey," Kenny looked around Stan's shoulder at Wendy, who still stood awkwardly next to their car. She waved at him and approached the house, pulling Kenny into a loose embrace.

"I have a surprise for you, Stan." Kenny said after Wendy let go of him.

Stan looked at him inquisitively. "What?"

Kenny pointed behind his shoulder into the house, before walking inside. Stan and Wendy followed him hesitantly. Kenny opened the door to the living room and pushed Stan in.

"Whoa!"

Kyle and Cartman were sitting on the opposite ends of the couch; both of their expressions lit up when Stan stumbled through the door. Kyle stood up immediately and hugged Stan tightly enough to make him gasp for breath while Cartman stayed on the couch.

"How the hell are you?!" Kyle said, tightening his grip a bit before letting go. Stan rubbed his abs, painfully aware that they were going to bruise later. He was surprised that Kyle outgrew him - that he grew anymore at all - since high school.

"Other than the fact that you just almost fucking killed me, I'm doing fine." Stan sat on an overstuffed chair; he looked at Wendy and smiled, scootching over to make room for her. She sat next to him and slid her arm around his back (it surprised him, but he couldn't complain).

"Where have you been?" said Kyle. He sat back down on the couch, still as far away from Cartman as he could.

"Here. Wendy and I have a house ten or fifteen minutes away."

"No shit? I thought that you wanted to move or something. You talked about it all the time."

Wendy's arm tensed behind Stan's back, but her expression didn't change.

"Well, I changed my opinion." Wendy's arm loosened, her body language saying 'good boy'.

Kyle took a swig of beer and nodded. "Oh. Well, I moved to California. I'm doing some stuff with my book and have a part-time job as a waiter."

As Kyle matured, he gained a love for writing. He'd been working on his book since he was a sophomore in high school, but Stan wasn't sure it it'd ever be completed. The last time he saw Kyle's novel, it was well over three hundred pages.

"Did you ever finish it?"

Kyle grinned. "Yeah, like four months ago. You'll have to read it. I actually have a copy of it here, it you want to."

"Enough with the subtle advertising. Stan, Wendy, want a beer?" Kenny called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, that'd be great." Stan called back.

Wendy sighed. "Stan, if we're both hammered, how will we get home?"

Kenny kicked the door open with his feet, a bottle in each hand. "You guys can stay here for the night - that's what Kyle's doing. I think Cartman's just staying in a hotel, right?"

"Yeah. No offense Ken, but I'd rather sleep in your septic tank than in here."

"That can be arranged." Kyle murmured.

Stan was happy - it was just like old times.

--

Wendy was slumped against Stan's shoulder, either because she was sleeping or because of her low alcohol tolerance. Stan stroked her hair as he had been for the last ten minutes, still fully awake. They never moved from the little sofa that they'd been sitting on for over four hours. Kenny had gone upstairs to his room a while ago, and Stan didn't even know where Kyle was.

_My legs are asleep._ Stan rotated his ankles, making them break out into a prickling sensation. _Fucking unbearable_. He gently pushed Wendy off of him, leaning her on the arm of the chair. Stan stood up, making the floorboards groan, and walked to the kitchen, unsure of where he was going or what he was doing. He stood in front of the sink and turned on the water. Stan ran his wet fingers through his hair, now aware that he wasn't wearing his hat - not that he really cared.

"Tough time sleeping?"

Stan dropped his hands to his sides and turned around. Kyle sat on the staircase with his elbows resting on his knees, wearing a white button-down and boxers.

"Kind of. I guess." Stan joined Kyle on the staircase, sitting a few steps below him. "It doesn't matter though; I don't have to go to work tomorrow or anything."

Kyle made a noise that sounded like 'hn' as a response. He rested his head against the wall, looking at Stan with his half-lidded bright green eyes that could almost be seen in the dark.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Stan asked in a hushed voice.

Kyle shrugged and smiled. "Same reason you aren't."

Stan swiped his hand across his face, raking his mind for something to say. Kyle beat him to it.

"You know that I really never got as close to anyone as I did to you, right?"

Stan lifted his head and looked at Kyle curiously. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true. My parents told me, after graduation, that I should break ties with all of my old friends and start my own life. I regret it. Now I don't have anyone to talk to because I kept everyone that I've met since then at an arms-length. I don't have a best friend, or even a close friend."

Stan looked out of the window above the sink; it was gathering frost. "At least you were able to leave South Park. I lied when I said that I changed my mind about this place. I still hate it. I'm only here because Wendy wants me to be."

Kyle closed his eyes, appearing to contemplate something. His long fingers were weaved together and clenched so tightly that his nails dug into the top of his hands. Stan reached up without thought and pried them apart. Kyle let him turn his palms over and study them in the dark. Other than some scabs on his knuckles, there was nothing out of the ordinary, so Stan let go.

"Just making sure you didn't go emo on me," Stan said after he released Kyle's hands.

Kyle laughed quietly, trying not to wake Wendy and Kenny up. "Thanks for caring."

"Are you being serious or sarcastic?"

"A little bit of both."

Stan shook his head, despite the broad smile on his face. Kyle was easy to talk to; it was like they'd never been apart.

Something clicked in Stan's head. "Why didn't you ever call me? If you were feeling lonely, I could've been there."

Kyle paused for a moment, turning over responses. "Are you drunk?"

"Just a little buzzed. But answer my question."

"I thought that, you know, it'd be weird, or you'd be too busy, or you wouldn't want to talk to your little high school friend anymore."

Stan rested his shoulders on the step that Kyle was sitting on. He didn't know whether to feel sympathetic or insulted that Kyle thought that Stan would just throw him away, like trash or something. Kyle slouched a bit, his expression blank and unreadable in the dark.

"That's...stupid. You were, and still are, my friend. My best friend." Stan scooted up to Kyle's step and placed his hand on his shoulder in a 'there-there' sort of fashion. Kyle looked at Stan's face. They held eye contact about twenty seconds, Kyle reaching up and placing his warm hand over Stan's cold fingers. The contrast of their skin was immense. Then Kyle quietly told Stan good night, drew back his hand, and climbed the staircase. Stan sat in bewilderment, staring at nothing.

His fingers suddenly felt colder than ice.

* * *

_-JetBlackFedoraHat_

**Author's Note: Well, readers know the drill. Anyways, I hope that someone's still reading after my royal fuck-up last chapter. (aggressively slaps forehead)**_  
_**I don't have much else to say I guess. Thanks for reading.**


	4. IV

Stan was shaking by the time that Wendy woke up. He blamed it on the chill in the house, although it was most likely because he was tired and a bit anxious. He had slept for a grand total of about twenty minutes that night, sitting with his back to Wendy's chair, his eyes wide open.

Wendy stirred and opened one eye, closed it, and opened it again. She slowly sat up and surveyed her surroundings. It took a few seconds before she remembered that they never went home. Stan smiled wanly and waggled his fingers at her - she sleepily waggled hers back.

"When'd I fall asleep?"

"You were pretty much conked out by eleven. Maybe eleven-thirty."

She nodded once, then paused and raised her eyebrows. "Why are you on the floor?"

" 'Cause you took up most of the couch. Fatty."

Wendy scoffed and pushed Stan's arm as if to say 'you don't call women fat', which Stan gave a laugh instead of the wince that she'd hoped for. Wendy grabbed his shoulders and pushed Stan to the ground, landing clumsily on top of him and damn near knocking the wind out of him.

_If I wasn't up all night, I could _so _take her._ But Stan couldn't, he was too tired, and he had to let Wendy pin his arms above his head and tell him what he already knew.

"I win."

"I know. Lemme up." Stan tried to squirm out from under her, but she picked up his hands and slammed them to the carpet again. She was about to say something along the lines of 'you aren't going anywhere' when a voice startled both of them.

"Whoa. You guys are frisky." Kenny stood in the doorway (minus a door) holding a cup of tea in his hand. He looked and sounded quite strange without his orange parka on; Kenny wore a white collared shirt with an untied tie around it instead. His hair was in causal disarray. Very un-Kennylike.

Wendy was standing up before Stan even realized it, pointing at him childishly. "He called me fat. I had to retaliate."

"You're about as fat as a Cartman is skinny. And that wouldn't have even taught him a lesson anyway, with you straddlin' him like that. He'd just start calling you a fatass all the time if that's your idea of punishment." Kenny quickly knotted the black tie and pulled it a bit tighter than it was. He looked good all gussied up.

Stan awkwardly stood up and dusted off his pants in a way that could be called prissy. He glanced at Kenny's unhooded face for a moment and looked down, a little embarrassed of how nice Kenny looked and how nice he, himself, didn't. "What's with the tie, Ken? A date?"

"Nah, not unless you count a date with the Lord. Church. It doesn't look that bad, does it?"

"Don't worry. You're gorgeous." Wendy gave him a look-over again, feeling very special to finally get a look at his face. He smiled sarcastically and made Wendy laugh. A part of her wanted to ask if they could come along too, since she and Stan rarely went to church together. She didn't ask, since she didn't want to intrude.

After milling around for a while, Stan and Wendy decided that they'd spent long enough at the house. They were getting their jackets when Stan was tapped firmly on the shoulder. He turned around, expecting to see Kenny, but it was Kyle instead.

"Hey - I didn't know you were up."

"Well, seems like I am. Any epic plans for today?"

Stan shrugged, putting on his brown jacket. "Epic? No. Why?"

Kyle picked off a fleck of something from the shoulder of Stan's jacket. He felt the heat from Kyle's warm fingers through the cloth. "Do you have any plans for breakfast?"

Stan shook his head. He wasn't much of a breakfast eater, but he kept that to himself.

"Then let's go on a waffle run."

Wendy was standing at the door. Stan looked at her and back at Kyle, biting his lower lip. "We have to get going. I'm sorry."

Kyle's shoulders slackened then shrugged. "All right. See ya in another five years." He was serious. Stan stopped halfway out the door and looked over his shoulder. "How about lunch?"

"Okay. I guess I'll be at your place at about noon."

"Noon," Stan agreed, then shut the door behind him.

--

Stan was surprised that he didn't fall asleep face-first on the couch in the den the second they came home. He'd pay for his lack of sleep later that night, but today he had no time for that. He apparently had plans for lunch that didn't involve the microwave as they usually did.

"Wendy," Stan stood at the base of the stairs and held on to the railing.

"Hmm?"

"You heard about my and Kyle's plans, right, babe?"

"Yes, I heard. While you do that I'm gonna be babysitting Cartman's kid."

If Stan was drinking something he would've dramatically spit it out. "No shit! Cartman has a kid?"

Wendy nodded from where she stood in the bathroom applying mascara. She remembered that he was downstairs and he couldn't see her, and quickly added, "Yep, three and a half years old. Boy. Haven't seen him yet, don't know the mom."

"But that means...that he would've had him when he was like nineteen. Wow." Stan paused, realizing something. "_Holy crap_, Cartman fucked!"

Wendy sighed. "If you want to put it that way, yes. He did." _He's so immature_._ God._ "You should probably get ready. It's like 11:45, and I remember that Kyle has a tendency to be early to everything - kind of like you do."

The second that she said that Stan heard a knock at the door. "Wow, that's cliché," he said to himself as he put on jacket and opened the door. Kyle stood on their porch, his skin a bit flushed from the cold, his hands shoved into his pockets, smiling distantly.

"Miss me?"

"Hell yeah." Stan laughed to show that he meant it, but didn't usually say 'hell yeah' because it made him sound a little stupid. Kyle responded with "Heh," and smiled without showing teeth.

"Wendy, Kyle's here. I'll be back in a couple hours, 'kay?"

"Have fun," she called back.

It took a couple seconds after Stan was outside and had already shut the door to realize that Kyle walked there. "Want me to go back and get the keys?"

"Nah. We can just walk, save gas, you know. It's not like it's that far away." Kyle shrugged to emphasize that he didn't care. His scarf shook a little bit in the wind, nearly untying itself. Kyle grabbed it and moved it to where it belonged around his neck. "Unless you want to."

"No no, it's fine. I walk from here to town almost every day anyways." Kyle nodded and looked away, only to look back at him. They were walking side-by-side down the ice-covered sidewalk. No cars today.

A few awkward seconds later, they looked away from each other and laughed. Stan made sure to keep his eyes fixed to the road after that.

"Did you know that Cartman has a kid?" Stan heard himself talking, like it was someone else's voice.

"Mm-hmm. The kid's name is Robbie. He inherited his looks from his mother, thank God."

"Who's the mom? I don't know anyone that would screw Cartman."

Kyle smiled; this time he did show teeth. "He's married. And the chick's a little chubby, but not...excessively. She's with him 'cause she thinks that he's funny."

"I guess that you could say that he's funny, in a weird sadistic kind of way." He glanced at Kyle's expression then back to the road, quickly adding, "But I don't really think so."

"Nice save."

"Thank you. I try." Stan tried to perform a sort of bow as they walked, but his foot slipped on the same patch of ice that almost made him fall two days ago. This time it succeeded in tripping him; Stan fell without grace and braced himself to land on the pavement. He never hit the ground. Stan felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his shoulders and catch him, nearly suffocating him in the process. He looked up at Kyle's calm face, his eyes looking over him as if they were saying 'are you hurt, I hope I didn't hurt you, and if I did I'm sorry.' They stood in the uncomfortable near-embrace for a moment until Kyle let his hands fall to his sides.

Stan said the only thing he could think of. "Wow. No one's ever caught me before."

* * *

_-JetBlackFedoraHat_

* * *

**Author's Note: Ooh. Nah, I'm not serious. Nothing to say except sorry for taking so long to get this sucka out. Thanks a bunch to those of you that reviewed.  
Oh, and by the way, I'm kind of puttering around with a little oneshot thing that could be out next week. I don't like my profile looking so bare :)**


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